Intrepidity
by divine energy
Summary: All the gang wants is Ponyboy and Johnny back, and to survive the days they're gone.
1. Darry

I don't own the Outsiders. There'll be five chapters in this, but I'm letting you know that they're all done in first person, but each chapter is a different person.

Here is my little explanation that you don't need to read: if you've ever had something in your head for forever and you had to write it for it to leave you alone, then you get why I wrote this. It's just a point of view thing. I mean. We all know what happens during these few days, and it's not like I made aliens come to earth while the boys were gone. Although that would be interesting. So this really has no purpose. It's just full of angst. I can't think of anything else. I guess I just like being in the guys' heads - let's call this practice! Okay.

So basically ... I'm posting this to get it out of my Doc Manager, it's been there long enough.

And that's all! Happy reading!

* * *

**Day One**

**~ Sunday ~**

**~ Darry ~**

I don't know what I was expecting. I spent all night praying that it was all just a dream. It was my worst nightmare. It was so quiet in our house that morning.

I knew from the moment that Sodapop came out of his room, pale-faced and shaking his head – it was like telling me Ponyboy had already been found dead in the river or something. How could I have let this happen? I had been getting more and more riled up last night - and Soda had told me I'd better cool off, or I'd do something I'd regret. It was funny how he was always right about things like that.

"Any sign?" I croaked, even though I knew there wasn't.

"He ain't here, Darry," Soda said quietly, cutting to the chase.

"Did you try Two-Bit's?" I asked. "He coulda gone to Two-Bit's last night."

Soda shook his head. "He didn't."

"Did you check?" I shot back, out of desperation. "Did you call?"

Sighing, Soda shook his head. "I'll call now."

For a second, a tiny ember of hope roared inside my chest, watching Soda call the Mathews'. On a normal day, he would've just loped down the street - they only lived about five minutes away, ten if you took your time - and he probably would've ended up staying there for an hour. That was just how it happened. But I guess neither of us had much energy that morning. I knew I wasn't the only one who hadn't slept a wink.

I just kept thinking of what had happened all night.

We both flipped when Ponyboy left. I had made to go chase after him, but Sodapop had shouted - really shouted at me, thundering and roaring like he hadn't in a long time - that we should just stay here, and give the poor kid time to cool off, room to breathe.

We both knew we couldn't sleep. We didn't bother trying for a long time. My gaze was transfixed on the front door, waiting for it to creak open.

Even when we went to bed, it was about five in the morning, and all I could think about was how only three hours ago, Ponyboy had been right here, safe and at home, with people who loved him. Even if he didn't know it. I should have listened to Soda. I couldn't count the times that Sodapop told me that with each day that passed, Ponyboy was only more and more convinced that I didn't love him. I was so shocked and taken aback by such a stupid idea, that I didn't believe it. I didn't even register it; Hell, I didn't even think about it. It seemed so stupid to me, I paid no attention to it. It was only a few hours ago, he was here.

All night, all I could think was that I should have wrapped my arms around him and refused to let him go, refused to let him out of my grip, or out of my sight even. I should have kept him in my arms until he'd promised me he'd stay. I should've kept a firm hold like I should have from the start, and waited until he got too sleepy and worn out to fight back, to try to run anymore.

And then I thought - he wouldn't even be doing this if I hadn't hit him in the first place. This was all my fault. All my fault. And for all I knew, he was _still _running, putting as much distance as he could between him and his brothers, his home.

With every hour that passed, it was another hour he was just gone. Six o' clock, _my baby brother's been gone for four hours now. _Seven o' clock, _God, it's been five hours, why won't he come home? _Eight o' clock, _where is that kid, it's been six hours? _By nine - _what if something really bad happened to him? Something really, really bad. _It was like I could feel it. It was like I knew.

My eyes filled up with tears - again - as I watched Sodapop on the phone.

"Hi, Mrs. Mathews," he said, sounding exhausted. I watched as he raked his fingers through his blond hair, eyes closed, his face lined. He looked older than I had ever seen him look. "It's Sodapop."

Something I couldn't distinguish from the other line.

"No no," Sodapop said then. "I don't need to talk to either of 'em." She thought he was calling Two-Bit, or his sister Holly. "I just wanted to know if you'd seen Ponyboy in the last while. He hasn't been over, has he?" I grimaced - he couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice.

Then he sighed - the most heartbreaking sound I'd ever heard, and when he spoke again, he sounded strained, like someone was choking him. "No, that's okay Ms. Mathews. No we don't know where he is. Yeah, I know. Well if you see him ... Just tell him we're real worried about him over here."

She said something else, and after saying goodbye, Sodapop dropped the phone as if he hadn't the energy to hold it up anymore, and looked at me like he could burst into a fresh wave of tears.

I wouldn't tell him this, but I'd heard him crying last night. I don't think he'd heard me - to be honest, a lot of the time I wondered whether Sodapop thought I was still able to cry or not. But after a while, I was all dried out - but the quiet of my thoughts alone was even worse. But Soda, he kept it up for most of the night. I didn't want to tell him it wasn't tough - who cared about being tough anymore? I didn't think he cared more than I did either. Sodapop just felt everything a lot different, a lot stronger, than a lot of the rest of us. I'd always thought Ponyboy was like him in that way.

But I'd spent the night listening - hoping against hope that I would hear the door open, and Ponyboy would tiptoe into the room he shared with Soda and crawl into bed next to him. And then in the morning, I'd probably holler at him for scaring us so much, while I hugged him to me and refused point-blank to let him go, while Soda laughed in the background, and jokingly told me to quit strangling his kid brother.

"Nah, he ain't there, Dar," he said quietly.

"You don't think he went to Steve's, do you?" I asked, not knowing what else I could rack from my brain.

If it was a different situation, Soda would have roared with laughter. But he didn't. "No I don't," he said sharply. "Besides, Steve would've dragged him back by the ear by now."

"Yeah, ain't that the truth," I muttered.

Soda collapsed into the armchair it seemed I had spent an eternity in last night, and covered his face in his hands.

"Where the _hell _is that kid?" he shouted.

"You don't think he's just back in the lot, do you?" I said quickly. Soda shook his head.

"Nah, he'd be home by now," he said.

"He could be still asleep," I grumbled in my exhaustion.

It was a quiet morning. I kept replaying the night's events like an old movie that I had stuck in my head, like someone had stuck a TV right in front of my eyes and that was all I could see.

After hours of being up, pacing around the house, and getting weaker by the minute, I decided that we'd better eat something. So I went to start breakfast - though it was late. I wondered was Soda meant to be at work. He usually had a shift on Sunday, but on any given week he might have it off. He hadn't mentioned anything. I wanted to tell him he'd have to go to work anyway, but I just didn't have the heart.

"Little buddy, I don't know if we got any grape jelly left," I called into Soda. He waltzed in a moment later, opened the corner cupboard, and pulled out some grape jelly from behind a year old, unopened box of cereal wordlessly. I managed a weak grin at him, and he shrugged his shoulders.

I was just about to put on Ponyboy's eggs - hard, just the way he likes him - when I realized again that he wasn't there to eat them. And then I let a few tears spill over, standing there in my kitchen, over a pile of eggs.

Soda just stood there and looked at me, stunned. "Darry - w- wha-"

"I was just about to make some eggs for him," I muttered, clearing my throat.

Soda nodded. "Dar, it's gonna be okay." I pretended as if I didn't hear him. "He'll be home soon, I know it."

Just after he had done talking, Steve and Two-Bit were running in, out of breath and looking pretty frantic.

"Man, you won't believe what we just -" Steve started, before he stopped, panting for breath, stood up a little straighter and looked around. "Whe- Where's the kid?"

Soda let out a tiny whimper and turned away, so with a sigh, I answered his question. "He ain't been home all night."

"He ain't what?" said Two-Bit, dropping the fork he had just picked up.

"You saw him last night, didn'tcha Two-Bit?" Soda said, grimacing.

"Yeah, I did!" Two-Bit said, nodding earnestly. "Well, I was with 'em, and then I left to hunt up a poker game or somethin', I don't really remember what I did after that."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Convenient that you _never remember." _

"You callin' me a phoney, Stevie?" Two-Bit grinned at him, looking amused.

"Well, either phoney or a drunk," Steve said, shrugging.

"Drunk!" Two-Bit repeated. Then he threw up one hand. "Yes, I'll admit it. I like beer."

Soda and I laughed - you just had to at the sincerity on his face - but it felt oddly constricted.

"So - uh," I decided to was time to press on. "Did they say where they were goin' after you decided to go hunt up trouble?" I asked Two-Bit, who furrowed his brow and frowned while he thought.

"Well, I asked 'em were they headin' home," he said. "And Ponyboy said not right then." I felt my lips tighten. Of course he didn't want to come home. "Somethin' about another smoke," Two-Bit continued. "And the stars, I don't know," he said, shaking his head and waving his hand around. "I was just leavin', and they were still there on the curb."

"Wait, hold up," said Steve, frowning. "Has anyone seen Johnny?"

"Maybe he went home," said Soda stiffly.

"Wouldn't we have seen him by now?" Two-Bit said.

"So," I said, in some way that made them all shut up, I don't know what I did. "No one knows where our baby brother is. And no one knows where Johnny is either?"

Soda swallowed and looked at his shoes - well, at his feet. I ain't never seen that kid wear shoes indoors. Two-Bit and Steve glanced at each other.

"You don't think ...?" Steve said to Two-Bit, who went white.

"Well, uh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. Soda sat up on the kitchen counter, gazing intently at Two-Bit. "I don't know man," said Two-Bit.

"What?" said Soda sharply.

Two-Bit, grimacing, turned to Soda and me. "Well, see. Me and Steve just came over here to tell y'all. They found some dead Soc in the park."

Soda's jaw dropped.

Steve shook his head soberly. "The kid was knifed. Bob Sheldon - you remember Soda, we went to school with him?"

Soda nodded, gulping. "Yeah I remember him." For a minute, he stared at Steve with blank eyes - and then he covered his face in his hands.

Two-Bit looked uncharacteristically somber. "Well, we kinda ran into him last night," he said grimly, looking so utterly awkward and reluctant to have to tell us this. "He thought we'd sorta - picked up his girl."

"And did you?" Soda demanded.

Two-Bit shrugged. "We was walkin' with her and her friend is all. And besides, he was so drunk, he woulda given me a run for my money."

"If ya had any," Steve muttered.

Two-Bit thwacked him on the arm and continued. "And he seemed pretty pissed when he left. Maybe he went looking for us last night."

"And maybe he found them," Steve added bitterly. "All we know is - now the kid's dead."

My throat was tight, and it was hard to swallow. I knew that this was something a lot worse than forgetting to be home on time, or falling asleep somewhere. Somebody was dead, and all the signs were saying that Ponyboy had something to do with it. But Pony couldn't kill anybody - he was a fourteen year old kid, not a murderer.

I felt ... _relieved, _mostly. At least it wasn't _my_ brother was dead; even if he was missing, at least he was still alive. I knew he was.

"So you're thinkin' Pony and Johnny had somethin' to do with it?" Soda said, muffled under his hands.

"Well," Steve grimaced. I knew he didn't want to tell Soda the truth as much as any of us didn't want to hear it.

"They could have have done, kiddo," I said in a soft voice. I was startlingly calm, aware that Steve was staring at me waiting for an explosion.

The words were only barely just out of my mouth, and there was a rap on the door, and we glanced around at each other. For one fleeting second, I thought it could be Ponyboy, and I was already promising myself that I wouldn't holler at him, I wouldn't punish him for being out all night, for scaring us half to death, I was just that happy to have him home, where he was safe.

But I knew really, that no one knocked at our front door, ever, let alone Ponyboy.

"Uh, Darry," said Sodapop, who had darted to the window. "I ain't sure you're gonna like this."

"Why, who is it?" I said, thinking to myself about how not in the mood to talk to anyone I was.

By that time, Soda had opened the door and couldn't answer. I came to his side - and felt my jaw unhinge.

"Officers," I said cautiously.

"Mister Curtis," the police officer said gruffly. "Can we have a moment of your time?"

I nodded numbly, noticing how sheet-white Soda's face was gone.

xxx

I sat numbly on the couch; my eyes were tired and sore, and every little stirring movement outside the window had me bolt upright, peering keenly outside, thinking it was my baby brother, coming home.

I don't know why I kept thinking that.

Sodapop was seated on the floor across from me, occupying himself by chain-smoking through a packet and a half in one day, and chewing on his nails when he wasn't taking a drag. He was tired too, and I knew that just sitting around was making it even worse for him. He wasn't used to sitting still.

"Dar, d'you think Ponyboy's scared?" he asked.

I sighed. "Yeah, I think he probably is." The cops had told us as much. They'd asked us was Ponyboy home, and said they needed to speak to him about a murder in the area the night before. It was sort of crushing, having to tell them that he'd run out at two o' clock, and he hadn't come yet. Suspect for a murder - not that they sounded like they were suspicious of anything. The officers that had come to the door had seemed pretty certain of what had happened. And yet I couldn't believe it. Not _my _brother - not _Johnny - _not some popular Soc who was bumming around on the wrong side of the tracks for whatever reason. It didn't make sense. It was English they were speaking, but it seemed a very strange kind of English. It might as well have been Chinese.

They told us that they had accounts from eye witnesses - some of the dead kid's friends, no doubt - and there seemed to be no question that Ponyboy and Johnny had been involved in some sort of fight. And then that Soc ended up getting stabbed.

Soda gulped. "But you don't think he could've - he could've killed anyone, r-right?"

I let out a deep heavy sigh. "I don't know. I don't think so." I didn't know what he would have done it with - and even if it was just to defend himself, I don't know if I could ever imagine my kid brother taking a knife to somebody. They had said it was Johnny - but that seemed equally unbelievable.

"So what," Soda blurted out. "You think it was Johnny?" There was disbelief in his voice, almost like he found the thought funny, but I could tell - Soda was scared.

I sighed again, grimacing down at my younger brother. He was nearly seventeen now, but he still seemed so much younger to me. "Well Soda," I said gently. "Don't forget that Johnny was the one who carried a switch in his pocket everywhere he went. He wasn't about to let anyone do what those boys did to him a few months ago ever again."

Soda paled, and his lips tightened into a taut line. He raked his fingers through his hair, a cigarette still dangling from his lips. Normally I would have told him off for smoking so close to me, or for getting ash all over the floor, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

The neighbourhood seemed so quiet right then - even though I knew it wasn't. Reporters had starting coming around about an hour after the police had - they had finally cleared off, and it seemed almost eerie, the quiet that had followed their departure. That wasn't even it.

Before, the Socs made a sport out of jumping a greaser they caught walking by his lonesome, or a couple of guys they could outnumber. But now there had been an uproar, and they were all so angry. I guess that Bob kid had been a popular guy. I didn't really understand, since taking out their frustration or grief by attacking every greaser they saw sure as hell wasn't going to bring their buddy back. I didn't think it made them feel any better at all.

As for the greasers - well, they were always up for a fight. They didn't care what it was about, or who started it, or what for - any excuse was good enough for them, as long as they got to pair their fist with a Soc's face. All of a sudden, it seemed like warfare.

Except, when I thought about - it didn't seem so sudden at all. It felt like it had been simmering just beneath the surface for a long time. All it needed was a trigger.

But it was so much worse than I had expected. Overnight, it seemed to have spread faster than wildfire, and the Socs were so frustrated, and so full of rage, greasers were getting jumped left, right and centre. And greasers were beginning to retaliate, for no more reason other than "they started it".

It didn't make much sense - but it wasn't as if anything was making much sense.

Steve promised to stop by after work, and he did just that, chucking Soda a fresh pack of Kools when he got in.

Soda grinned in appreciation and opened them immediately, causing Steve to raise his eyebrows. "Man, everyone's pretty pissed," he remarked. "And I mean everyone. Ain't no one walking by their lonesome, anybody who does is getting jumped."

"Yeah well," Soda said, tapping the cigarette off the side of the box. "If it was the other way around, we'd be twice as bad."

"You kiddin'?" Steve replied. "We'd be ten times as bad - there wouldn't only be one dead kid."

"Ain't that the truth," Soda muttered.

"You hear anything about Pony or Johnny?" I asked Steve; he shook his head.

"I wonder how long it'll take for his folks to come lookin' for him," he mumbled.

Soda, uncharacteristically bitter, scoffed. "Don't kid yourself - they ain't ever comin' to look for him," he said darkly, puffing away incessantly.

"Hey Soda," I said. "Cool it, will ya? You're makin' me uneasy."

He said nothing, just inclined his head and took another drag.

Steve didn't stay long - I wished he did stay longer. For a long time after he left, I kept at my seat by the window, the phone resting so quietly beside me. I didn't want to keep Soda up, but he adamantly wanted to stay awake as long as I did.

The TV was on the entire time, because we were both too mentally exhausted to maintain conversation, but without it, it just seemed so quiet, it was eerie. I looked at Soda. His eyes were rimmed red, and he looked a wreck.

"Soda," I said quietly, my voice breaking. "What - what happened with Sandy?" I knew it was an awful time to mention it, but seeing him the way he was, I figured there might have been something else I might want to know about. He had told me before he left for the game that Sandy was pregnant. I didn't bother asking how long he'd known.

They'd had trouble, I knew that. He'd broken up with her once before, but they were back together, even though it hadn't been more than a couple of weeks. Maybe _that _was when he found out. That sounded a lot like Soda - that would make him stay with anybody.

Soda cleared his throat, his eyes darting around desperately, looking anywhere but at me. "It wasn't mine," he said shortly.

My mouth fell open and I slipped off the couch. He was the last person to deserve that. I could almost feel my heart breaking for my little brother. My heart was breaking for both my little brothers. I didn't know what to ask him about it, and I didn't really know how I was meant to comfort him. His expression was enough to render me speechless.

I bawled before the end of the night.

* * *

Reviewing would generally be what I'm hoping you're gonna do.


	2. Steve

I don't own the Outsiders. This is a lot shorter than the first - I guess I didn't have as much to say as I did for the first one. Sorry for the long wait too, by the way - discovered a new TV show, totally fried my brain, went back to school, totally fried my brain, went into hospital, totally fried my brain. So I'm sorry if this seems a little brain-fried. It is! I'm rambling.

Onward!

* * *

**Day Two**

**~ Monday ~**

**~ Steve ~**

I rubbed sleep from my eyes as I stumbled into the classroom, keeping my head down. Not one wink of sleep last night. I would have liked to know who _did _get any sleep last night. I'd say something if it was me, or Dally or Two-Bit, or even Sodapop - but Johnny and Ponyboy? I didn't have a clue who to be more worried about. I didn't give a rat's ass how they'd ended up involved in all this trouble - I couldn't have cared less if they _did _kill that Soc. A part of me hoped that they did.

It was just so weird to think of either of them taking a blade to someone, anybody. I had never reckoned that Ponyboy knew how to use a blade proper. I knew that Johnny had one, and while I had never doubted that he would use it if he had to ... I guess I never dreamed he'd be pushed to that point. He did so well at keeping out of trouble. They must have been in real deep.

I slumped in my seat, my eyes shut. My brain was aching from exhaustion. I had only come to school because I needed some sort of distraction. I couldn't stand to be sitting around all day, worries spiralling around all of us. I had to be _doing _something, even if it was school.

The mood in the class was subdued. Twice, some lousy hood had sauntered over and asked me did I have anything to do with it. They looked about ready to congratulate me, and I was too tired to win an argument.

I didn't realize how bad things were about to get until the girl I sat beside bustled into the room. She was a middle classer, and she wasn't too bright, but she'd never been nasty. In fact, she never said much.

And the moment she saw me, the expression on her face changed to nothing but disgust. I raised my eyebrows at her.

"Your pals were the ones that killed Bob Sheldon, ain't that right?" she said coldly.

I swallowed hard. It sounded alien to my own ears - but if she thought I was going to lie, or try to start a war, she had another thing coming. Yeah - they were my pals. And I was hard pressed to think of something that would change that. "Yeah," I replied. "They were. Got somethin' to say?"

She didn't sit down beside me and offer a meek smile like she usually did. She stood with her feet rooted firmly to the ground, frowning down at me. "I suppose you and your buddies are real proud of yourselves," she said spitefully.

"Yeah," I retorted sarcastically. "Real proud. We've been plotting this for months."

She scowled. "You think you're getting away with this, you're wrong," she said.

"Really, you're making me shake," I replied coolly.

Her mouth fell open. "Aren't you even _sorry?" _

_"I _had nothin' to do with it," I replied heatedly. "You'd swear this happened on purpose."

She opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by another girl - a girl I knew to be a Soc, and really, exceptionally dim.

"Shelley, don't bother!" she yapped, stomping over and grabbing her friend's arm. "They'll get what's coming to them, don't even talk to those greasers."

I sat upright, and was half-turned around to yell at the girl - this wasn't my fault, it wasn't _anybody's _fault - when I fully processed what she'd say. _They'll get what's coming to them. _It wasn't like I was surprised or anything, I knew that the Socs were going to be pissed, and that they wouldn't let it lie. But not until right then had I considered out and out warfare. And now that I did think about it, it seemed like a probability.

I turned back around sharply, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth. I gritted my teeth and kept my head down - I was worried as hell about Johnny and Ponyboy, and I was starting to miss them both like crazy - but I half-wished that they wouldn't come home.

xxx

Two-Bit, white-faced and wide-eyed, gratefully took the cigarette I was offering him and leaned back on his car's fenders. "You alright?" I asked, nodding at his hand.

Two-Bit nodded, waving it dismissively, flicking tiny spurts of blood all over the place. Usually Socs kept to the cafeteria and left greasers well enough alone - but this, this was havoc. A Soc and a greaser had started fighting in the parking lot of the school. In fact, two Socs tried to corner a greaser just outside the principal's office. And even at lunch, when we went down to the grocery store to buy ourselves some food, we were just in time to pull two greasers and two Socs away from each other. One of the greasers had pulled a blade, and Two-Bit got his hand nicked in the process, and blood beaded along the shallow mark.

Those Socs weren't kidding - this was outright warfare. Two-Bit shook his head, watching tendrils of smoke unfurl and twist as it left his mouth. "This is crazy," he muttered, glancing around him.

The mood was already pretty crummy. Usually we would have had Ponyboy and Johnny with us, and if Soda was on his lunch break, he'd come down for a few minutes to keep himself busy. He hated being alone. If I could tell you one thing about my best friend, it was that he would put on a brave face no matter what; but I could tell that this would kill him. It was one thing to lose Sandy - their relationship was far from perfect - but to lose his kid brother. There was nothing Soda cared more about than that kid, and it was eating him up.

I was glad that Soda wasn't around today - I didn't want to have to deal with seeing the hurt in his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to pretend that things were normal. Things weren't normal, and sometimes, it was hard not to get tired of Soda trying to pretend it was. I could never see the world like Soda could.

I sighed. I didn't expect to feel so alone. Without saying a word, Two-Bit and I both knew what was missing. I kept turning around, expecting Johnny to grin at me and ask me for a cigarette - he ran out pretty fast.

"You think they're okay?" Two-Bit asked me.

I glanced up at him, taking a drag on my cigarette. "I think they're fuckin' stupid," I replied spitefully. I couldn't admit that I was crumbling - I wasn't going to. Socs everywhere, starting fights for no reason, and two of my best friends gone missing - _running away,_ because that was all they could do - I wasn't about to melt and cry like a little girl. I guess it wasn't my style.

"What makes you say that?" Two-Bit asked me, in an oddly calm voice.

I closed my eyes. I couldn't keep this up. "'Cause I'm just going to end up killing them anyway for doin' this to us," I retorted, and watched Two-Bit sigh. He picked at the half-dry blood that was crusting along his cut; I pulled a face.

He managed a weak laugh. "You know, I know Johnny doesn't say a lot," he muttered. "But that don't mean you wouldn't miss him when he ain't around."

"Yeah, you ain't a-woofin'," I said tiredly, raking my fingers through my hair. "This is insane."

Two-Bit didn't reply - I didn't think he was _able _to. I asked him if _he'd _slept a wink last night - he shook his head and puffed away on his cigarette, and I did the same, grateful for any sort of distraction. After about five minutes of silence - it seemed exacerbated by the fact that Johnny and Ponyboy weren't here to fill it - a couple of Socs got out of their car, and were eyeing us.

I glanced at Two-Bit, who jerked his chin up in a nod. I was angry, and I wasn't scared of four or five guys, even if I was by myself - but I was in no mood to fight. And I didn't have to ask Two-Bit to know that he felt the same way. Wordlessly, we got back in my car and headed back to school. I wondered whether we'd be the ones better off staying in the cafeteria, for a change.

xxx

The day that I expected to be one of the longest of my life actually turned out to be quite short - I guess I was dreading what would happen after school enough to make the time fly by without me noticing.

I could sense it - wherever it was. I felt like I couldn't walk down the hallway without glancing over my shoulder; I had myself convinced that the Socs were going to jump me - right there, in the school and all. This is different - it felt like the explosion. The one I'd been waiting for.

I had said it to Johnny - not three days ago. Don't you worry about it. The Socs keep coming over to our side of town, and we'd take care of it. We'd have to.

_Don't think about it, _I told myself. It hurt to think about Johnny. I couldn't think that he'd never hurt anybody - after what had happened to him, I knew damn well that he'd hurt anybody who tried to do that to him again, without a second's doubt. But this mess - this would hurt Johnny more than anything else could.

And Ponyboy - well, where the hell was I supposed to start with Ponyboy. The kid was young, and idealistic. His nose was buried in a book so often, he barely knew what went on in the real world. It was like his head lived in a different reality. And God help me - I didn't want to see the poor kid change. You didn't see that a lot in this neighbourhood - if he could hold onto it for as long as possible, I would have paid anything to see that.

No wonder I felt sick to my stomach all day.

Two-Bit was waiting for me after school, sitting on the wall opposite the place with a cigarette dangling from his lips and dark, heavy circles under his eyes.

"We gotta go meet Dal," he said when I reached him.

"Where is he?"

Two-Bit shrugged. "Said he was headin' to my place. The cops hauled him in," he added, jumping off the wall.

"For what?" I nearly yelped, yanking my car door open.

Two-Bit shook his head. "Beats me. And you know what else, them Socs tried to jump Montgomery - you know, the guy in Shepard's gang?"

I nodded. "Kathy's brother?"

Two-Bit nodded sagely, swinging himself into the passenger seat. "Dumb Socs. Don't know what's good for 'em."

I shook my head. "Did Dally say what the cops wanted? Was it about Ponyboy and Johnny?"

"Naw man, he didn't say nothin'," Two-Bit said uncertainly, scratching the back of his head.

So I high-tailed it over to Two-Bit's house, and all the while, strangely enough, I thought about Evie.

I needed to see her; I couldn't explain it, and I had tried - but there was something about Evie, and the way she could talk to me. She just seemed to get through to me, and she always knew exactly what to say. I wanted to talk to her more than I did anybody, even if it meant putting up with Holly Mathews' crap all the time.

But neither were at Two-Bit's - which was pretty strange for the two of them. They practically lived in Holly and Two-Bit's house.

Dally was just at the end of the street by the time we got to Two-Bit's; he grinned when he saw us, looking as unperturbed and untouchable as ever. In fact, he looked sort of pleased with himself.

Two-Bit sighed in relief and jumped out of my car, and I followed suit. "What the cops want?" I asked Dally, the moment he could hear me.

Dally eyed me. I wasn't always on the best of terms - sure, he was part of the gang and that was as good as family, but we just had different opinions. And I don't care what he said, he wasn't really in a position to call _me _too hot-headed. His temper was just as bad on mine, and worse to be on the receiving end of. Just because he was too cold to care...

It didn't really matter right now though. I could see it in his steely expression - what mattered was Ponyboy and Johnny.

He chuckled. "The boys down at the station ... They think everything that goes on around here has got my name written all over it."

"Whatcha tell 'em?" Two-Bit asked. Dally shoved his hands into his pocket - his jeans jacket, I noticed. He almost never wore that thing. I glanced at Two-Bit, who was staring right back at me. I didn't know whether Dallas knew something about something, but it seemed to me like he would.

I couldn't say for sure, but if ever Johnny got himself into trouble, I would have put my money on him running to Dallas for help. Hero-worship didn't even begin to cover it. I watched Dallas carefully for an answer, but he was already headed inside.

We followed. "You think he knows somethin'?" Two-Bit muttered.

I shrugged. "You think he'd tell us if he did?"

Two-Bit frowned, keeping his voice low. "No. Dal knows when to keep his trap shut."

"Then, either way," I replied. "I don't think we're about to hear all about it."

It wasn't until Two-Bit had settled three beers from the refrigerator down on Mrs. Mathews' coffee table that Dallas answered his question.

"Kept my trap shut," he said nonchalantly, frowning. "They sort of . . . forced it out me that Ponyboy and Johnny were headed for Texas."

"And are they?" Two-Bit said sharply.

"How the hell would I know?" Dallas shot back, the retort ready off his tongue. I raised my eyebrows.

"You don't know where they are?" I said. Dallas was a damn good liar; I knew I wasn't going to get anything.

"Okay," said Two-Bit, jumping up again. He ran out of the room and was back in a few seconds, brandishing a rolled up map of America, from God knows where. "So how are we getting to Texas?"

Dally just started laughing, and I let out a groan. "C'mon man, we ain't going to Texas."

Two-Bit didn't even look at me. "Ponyboy and Johnny are headed to Texas, we're goin' to Texas," he said simply. He made everything sound so simple.

"We can't just up and dust," I said loudly.

"How far away is Texas anyway?" Two-Bit asked, blinking up at me. Dally grinned again, taking a swig of beer and in reply, I hit Two-Bit over the back of his head.

* * *

Updates are promised... sometime. Whatever you have to say, I'm all ears. Just ... don't be cruel.


	3. Sodapop

Don't own it! Three down, two to go.

* * *

**Day Three**

**~ Tuesday ~**

**~ Sodapop ~**

More than anything, I'd tried to convince Ponyboy that Darry loved him. I told him all the time, and while he agreed with me every time, I knew that I wasn't doing any good. It wasn't getting through - the kid didn't believe me.

I wasn't going to pretend that it didn't piss me off at the worst of times. It was hard not to get ticked off sometimes. He was so concerned with feeling sorry for himself . . . I loved the kid to death, but after a while, it drove me crazy.

At first, I thought it was just because of the way our parents died. I thought it would calm itself out, and he'd take his eyes away from the rosy-tinted glass and stop coloring everything in whichever way he fancied.

But he really thought Darry hated him. And it was hard for me to even see. Darry had given up more than either of us, and got half the thanks I got. I know he didn't do it for the thanks or the praise, but I wanted Ponyboy to see what Darry had done - for _him, _mostly - and appreciate our older brother, even a little but.

Sure, I stuck up for Ponyboy when Darry would start yelling at him, because he did that a hell of a lot. But Ponyboy couldn't comprehend it was out of concern, not just because he felt like shouting, and Ponyboy was the nearest, and most entertaining, convenience. I guess they both had a lot to learn.

You'd get tired of sticking up for Ponyboy. Sometimes, he actually _was _wrong, but refused to see it. Then he'd get all defensive, and once he got hurt, I'd feel like I had to step in, before Ponyboy couldn't take it anymore. Before something like _this _would happen.

I didn't get it - how could he have been stupid enough to fall asleep in the lot? Worse things could have happened than just not getting home until two o' clock. I thought he had more sense than that at least. I was too tired, emotionally at the very least, by the time I got home on Saturday night to be as angry as Darry was. But I could understand why he was so pissed. Ponyboy _had _to stop letting this kind of thing happen, and I couldn't keep making excuses for him forever.

But that didn't mean Darry was right either - to go hollering at the kid until he was hoarse. The way he ragged on sometimes - what was Ponyboy supposed to think? Darry didn't talk much about how much he loved Ponyboy or anything, and I could see sometimes that he was too hard on Ponyboy. They needed to find a balance.

I had tried to be that balance, but I was slowly coming to the revelation that I couldn't be that balance. I didn't work - I saw both sides sure, but I let it get to me too much. Besides, every time I tried, all that happened was they ended up fighting over me.

And I was just _tired _of being fought over.

And then when Ponyboy ran - back out into the night at two fifteen in the morning; I could see it in his face. Like the scene that had unfolded was simply an affirmation of what he'd suspected all along. Hell, it was the final straw - all he needed to encourage him to think all that he'd been thinking anyway.

And like I said, I had been too drained to do anything except try to pacify things, until morning at least when we had all gotten a few hours sleep - but this was like a bomb triggered by a series of dominoes toppling each other over.

I saw his face - now he knew that Darry hated him, or at least thought he did. And no matter how much we got along, I almost felt like . . . like Ponyboy blamed me or something. Like any of this was my fault. Like I hadn't tried to do everything I could to make sure that neither of them ended up damaging the other so badly that I couldn't fix it up like I always did. Like I hadn't always attempted to keep the peace, even when I was in a crummy mood myself, when I didn't want to talk or listen to either of them, whether they were shouting at each other or beseeching me to take their side. Even when I felt like I was just done, I always tried.

What I needed was for Ponyboy to see how Darry was with him gone. It was like a small look at what it would have been like for Darry if we had been sent to a boys' home. And it was like hell. Only, I supposed that if we _were _sent to a boys' home - which, I had come to realize, could still very well happen after this - it would be a helluva lot worse for Darry.

We were both a wreck, all the time. Barely sleeping, eating only because we had to. We were just going through the motions. It was like someone had ripped off a limb, or even torn out our heart or a lung or something, and we were trying to get on with our lives as if we still had both our arms, as if our heart was still there. But we knew damn well that we wouldn't be able to function without our hearts, and it was killing us.

But if Ponyboy could see Darry's reaction, what he was doing to us, simply by not being here . . .

I couldn't think of a time when I had seen my older brother cry. If Darry did ever cry, he made damn sure that I wasn't around to see it. Even before our parents died, that was his job. The big brother had to stay strong, had to take care of his kid brothers. He couldn't let his guard down. If _Darry _couldn't hold it together - then how the hell were the rest of us supposed to keep from crumbling. Superman's job was to be invincible, and for as long as I can remember, I believed and held on to that fact.

Even when we were really small kids - I never remember his bawling over a gash in his knee like I would've, and did on occasion, tearing up when he didn't get his way. Not even a single sniffle when we learned there was no ice cream, which was enough to make my eyes water.

I'd seen Ponyboy cry alright - he had been crying just the other day, hadn't he? When those Goddamn Socs followed him home and spooked him so badly. It was painful, every time I thought of his face that day, like someone was stabbing a fresh, deep wound into my gut. That was one of the last things I could remember - him crying up at me, shivering like a leaf caught in a tornado.

But boy, after those cops left - well, neither of us could hold it in. It almost scared the living daylights outta me, both of us crumbling like that. Darry wasn't supposed to _break _- he was meant to be our Superman. Our unbreakable immovable support.

And God, if I thought the first night was as bad as it was going to get, I could not have been more wrong. The only reason I managed to get any little bit of sleep was because I was so exhausted from worrying myself sick all the live long day, and after a while, I was actually trying to shut my stupid brain up, though for a lot of the time it just wouldn't. For a lot of the time, it came up with the stupidest, most terrifying things, stuff I hated myself for even thinking, but couldn't shake out of my head.

But sleeping was getting harder and harder. If this went on much longer, I'd never sleep again by the end of it. Each day felt like a hundred years.

I had to force myself to get up in the morning. Mostly I did it for Darry, even though I knew he didn't want to get up either. People always talk about how they had days where they wished they had just stayed in bed.

I felt like that was going to be one of those days.

I had barely caught forty winks, and my feet dragged along the floor I was so exhausted. I was just so tired, so tired of thinking, of worrying, or replaying different things over and over in my mind, of expecting the worst.

Neither of us had picked up any groceries, so we polished off the last of what was there, because I guess we had to eat _something, _no matter how much I felt like getting sick every time I tried to eat. We didn't even have chocolate cake. I had been too tired to check.

I made a mental note to get some more today, for Ponyboy, so it would be there when he got back.

Nerves were gnawing my stomach into small pieces. I knew there wouldn't be any reply from Sandy yet - I had only sent the letter yesterday - but it still made me nauseous when I thought about the letter. I had told Ponyboy not even a week ago that I loved her. And I _did. _

And I was telling the truth when I had told Ponyboy all that - I was prepared to marry her. That wasn't a lie when I had told Ponyboy that. But I didn't want to have to explain to the kid, I didn't even want to talk about. So I told him I'd wait until he got out of school.

But then we'd gone to the games, and I didn't think I'd ever forget how excited I was, how happy I found myself. Sure, there was a baby to worry about, but I was stuck in this mess with the girl I was in love with and how could that have been a bad thing? I didn't see it, at the time. When I thought about it, I could barely believe how . . . _excited _I had been. I didn't really have a choice, so why not be as happy as I could about it? It wasn't ideal sure, but it wasn't so awful. Even this feeling of pressure . . . I knew I had to marry her and that was that, but at least I still had feelings for her. It would have been a hell of a lot worse if it was any other way.

But then Sandy had extinguished that fire with four little words. I had never considered the possibility that she didn't want to marry me, that it wasn't _mine. _But she set me straight, as blunt as she could. And just like that - excitement evaporated, along with whatever else we had left. Sure, we'd been on the rocks and taken a break once or twice over the summer.

But just like that . . . It was just over.

And I had considered that bad enough - it was all I was thinking about: who was the guy, although I had a rough idea, and when the hell did this happen. Was I that bad a boyfriend?

Sandy and Ponyboy all in one week. But after Ponyboy followed Sandy, I was losing the capacity to care about a relationship that was too dysfunctional to last anyway. I just wanted my brother back.

I guess that's why I wrote the damn letter in the first place. I wanted my old life back, exactly the way it had been. And if I couldn't have my brother back . . . I wanted _her _back, some sense of normality. I didn't know what I was hoping for. I didn't know anything anymore. But I had been with Sandy for months. If she still wanted me in the slightest, I knew I had to give her that chance.

I tried not to think about all that too much. It gave me a headache every time I did.

Nothing changed the fact that all I wanted to do was bury my head in my pillow and not get out of bed for days. I didn't feel like myself anymore.

xxx

It was hard, trying to get through my day like I would any other day. The world seemed so colossally different; I wasn't sure how it still managed to keep turning, after everything that happened.

Standing outside Buck's, still in my DX shirt, I shoved my hands in my back pockets and waited for somebody to come to the door. It was cold, but I was almost too numb to even notice. I still couldn't believe I was here, standing outside Buck's waiting for him to unlock the door - and when the hell had he started locking the door anyway? - like nobody's business.

It didn't feel right. It felt like the only right thing to do was fall asleep and not wake up until Ponyboy came home. Because he would come home. He _had _to. He didn't hate us that much.

Buck came to the door eventually - there was still plenty of people there, but compared to how it usually was, the place was like a ghost town.

"Hey Soda," he said, his hand leaping to the back of his neck. I could tell he wasn't very happy to see me. I couldn't blame the poor guy.

I raised my eyebrows, managing a small grin. "You wanna let me in? Before I freeze to death out here."

He let me in, slamming the door behind me. "Listen, Soda, listen," he mumbled gruffly, staring at the floor as he spoke.

"Somethin' wrong?" I asked, grinning at him.

"Well, now you mention it," he went on, starting to ramble. "Dal weaseled me outta fifty bucks over the weekend, and I ain't got a lot o' cash on me man."

I chuckled. "Well, tough," I told him, patting his shoulder. "I need my money. I can get Dal to weasel _that _outta you too, if you need."

Buck mumbled something about there being no need to get Dally involved, and pulled thirty bucks out of his back pocket. I was damn good at poker when I needed to be. If only I got a chance to play a little more often.

"Thanks, Buck," I said cheerfully. "Dally here, now you mention 'im?"

"Naw," Buck muttered, one hand to his face. "Said he was goin' to dig up some trouble, you know Dal, the way he is, 'nd he ..."

"Yeah," I said to cut him off, waving my hand dismissively. "I'll catch him later. I ain't seen him since the cops dragged his ass down to the station." I could talk to him later - I was sure he'd be around here somewhere.

"Anything else?" Buck grumbled, not looking at me. Maybe he was hoping I wouldn't try to weasel another ten bucks out of him. Dally always laughed about it - Buck _was _easy to bully.

"Yeah," I said sharply, just remembering that Buck's wasn't the only business I had to take care of. "Rita around? I owe her a few dollars."

"Really?" Buck said, raising one eyebrow.

"Get your mind outta the gutter," I said coolly. "I lost a bet to her."

"Yeah," Buck grinned. "She's good like that." I blinked and waited, and after a second, Buck told me she was upstairs trying to catch some z's. "I wouldn't go botherin' her if I were you," he warned me, but I just snorted.

"Nah, she's sweet on me, she won't mind," I said confidently, taking the stairs two at a time. I needed to get home quick enough, before Darry let the house burn to the ground since he was too out of it to pay attention to cooking much.

Rita was storming around one of Buck's spare bedroom, cussing under her breath. "Would it kill him to tidy up every once in a while?" she was grumbling to herself, snatching bundles of clothes off the ground. I waited in the open doorway until she noticed me.

"Hey, sugar," she smiled, batting her eyelashes at me. "Got somethin' for me?"

"Your blood money," I said matter-of-factly; she took it, still smiling sweetly.

"Buck would wanna hire a maid," she informed me. "Look at this," she said then, yanking something dark and heavy off the ground and holding it at arm's length. "This is still wet - smells like it's been here a couple o' days."

xxx

While we were eating, Dallas came around to tell us that they'd be hanging around down at the vacant lot, so once we had cleaned up - or rather, dumped the dishes in the sink to do when we weren't so exhausted - I pulled my jacket back on and moseyed down.

Tim Shepard had brought most of his outfit - Montgomery, basically second in command, who brought along his kid brother; Klass and Evie's brother Andy Cole. They all looked furious, talking in low voices as they shared a cigarette with Dally and Steve and Two-Bit.

"You look ready to pass out," Steve remarked, passing me the cigarette once I sat down beside him on the hood of his car.

"Ain't that the truth," I muttered, taking it gratefully. "What's goin' on?"

Steve shrugged. "We're just decided what we're gonna do about them Socs."

I rolled my eyes. I couldn't even bring myself to try and talk about them. I never cared if I never saw a Soc again. But if there was going to be a rumble . . . Well then, I had better get some sleep.

"Hey, Dally," I said abruptly, chucking the butt away. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

The moment I'd seen Ponyboy's sweatshirt, I'd put two and two together. Dally nodded and followed me just out of earshot of the other guy, and I willed myself not to get angry. This wasn't Dally's fault.

"Where are they?" I demanded; he frowned at me.

"Huh?"

"C'mon Dally," I muttered, raking a hand through my hair. "I know you know where they are. There ain't no one Johnny would have gone to before you to get him out of something like this -" Dally couldn't help but grin with pride at that - "and I know you know where they are."

Dallas, as cool as ever, shrugged his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I don't know, man."

I trusted Dally, really I did. But Ponyboy was my baby brother, and I couldn't help but think that this wasn't Dally to act the loyal hero. "C'mon Dal, they're our brothers."

Dally sighed, glancing back at the other boys. Occasionally, I'd feel like Dally thought I was just a kid, even though he was only a year older me. Even though we didn't have a lot in common apart from our social class and everything that came along with that, we'd always dug each other okay for the most part. But this was one of those times.

"Soda, I'm tellin' you," he insisted. "I ain't got a clue where those stupid kids are."

I swallowed back my anger - I knew better to get into a fight with Dallas Winston, but he was lying straight to my face and we both knew it. Dally stared back at me resolutely, and I bit my tongue, considering my options. I didn't need an exact address; I just had to know that they were safe.

I wanted to tell Dally to keep them safe, but I knew I didn't need to. He knew what was important, when it came down to it. He walked back to the group before I had a chance to say anything else, and I followed after a minute. Steve threw me a quizzical look but I shook my head. I knew he'd blow up. He _would _try to start a fight if it came to it.

And now there was war - we didn't need to start fighting amongst ourselves.

After a minute, Two-Bit whistled and nodded his head towards a little, pristine Sting Ray pulling up.

"That's a Soc, that is," muttered Tim.

"Should we jump her?" one of his boys said quietly, glancing at Tim for an order.

"C'mon man," Two-Bit said, before Tim had a chance to say anything. Two-Bit wasn't scared of nobody or nothing. "She ain't doin' nothin' wrong; leave her alone."

The girl with red hair tugged her jacket closer to her and approached us - she had a lot of guts, I'd give her that, walking up to a bunch of angry greasers all by her lonesome. She was gonna spy for us. I could see the look on Tim's face, halfway between skeptical and downright spiteful - but Dally of all people decided we were going to listen to her.

I didn't wait long to go home - I was exhausted again. I had one thing to do before I went to sleep. Sure, I knew I wasn't any good at spelling or anything - I couldn't help but think fondly of Ponyboy, that was just the kind of thing he'd notice - but if Dally wasn't going to tell me where they were, he could do for me the next best thing.

* * *

For the record, I am aware that Soda is basically just a bucket of angst. Oddly enough, I think that's the angle I was going for. If you've already reviewed, thanks so much, and if you have the time to drop me one, I'm always grateful.


	4. Two-Bit

Yes yes, I could insert plenty excuses for why I'm so terrible at updating and why this took so long and why I'm so negligent of my writing and all this kind of stuff. But here it is. At last. And I still don't own it. Read, and (hopefully) enjoy!

* * *

**Day Four**

**~ Wednesday ~**

**~ Two-Bit ~**

I woke up still aching. Four of them had cornered me yesterday, and they'd managed to sink a few good punches and pull a blade on me before I caught up with them. A couple of the guys came running to rescue me pretty soon after, but I was holding my own just fine. You didn't grow up on this side of town your whole life without picking up a few tricks.

The idea that I was not going to school today was already fully-formed in my head, and I wasn't going to argue with myself. That was the first step to the loony bin. Still aching, I stumbled downstairs. They had cut me on my hand and on my cheek - deep enough cuts, now that morning had given them time to settle. Absentmindedly, I pulled a shirt over my head and scratched at the cut on my hand, making it bleed again.

I was surprised to find Holly sitting in the kitchen, helping herself to a bowl of those Lucky Charms - the new fad in our household, the go-to cereal - while she studied the cardboard packaging box intently.

She looked up when she saw me. Her hair was tied back from her face, but strands were escaping anyway, and she kept shoving it back. "Don't pick at that," she admonished, grimacing at my hand.

"It's fine," I said coolly, waving a hand at her and swiping the box of Lucky Charms.

She jumped up - there wasn't much difference from when she was sitting on the stool; Holly was only five feet tall. If I didn't know that my dad was borderline midget-sized too, I would have doubted she was related to me, since our mother and I got all the tall genes.

"Okay," she said, frowning. "Don't stick your hand into the cereal, Two-Bit, it's still all bloody and grotesque." She wrinkled her nose; I rolled my eyes.

"It's fine," I said again, whining a little more.

"Can I at least clean it?" she said reproachfully, blinking up at me.

"You ain't gonna put a band-aid on it, are you?" I groaned. "That ain't gonna look tough at all."

"Well, if you keep scratchin' at it, it's gonna get infected," Holly informed me, raising her eyebrow. I rolled my eyes, but she got a disinfectant wipe from under the sink and pressed it to my hand, making me jump.

"Stings," I muttered.

"Don't be such a baby," she muttered, shaking her head at me. She dumped the tissue and went back to her cereal.

"Going to school today?" I asked her.

"No," she replied curtly. "Are you?"

I shook my head. "Takin' it easy today. With my favourite sister."

"Such a compliment, considering I'm your only sibling," she said coolly.

I shrugged. "Better than nothin', squirt."

She blinked at me. I went into the front room and switched on the TV. It was early enough, and television was never any good until about six o' clock. Holly followed me after she had cleaned up in the kitchen, and she stood leaning in the door frame with her arms folded loosely across her chest, and she surveyed me.

"What are ya starin' at?" I asked her from the couch.

"Two-Bit, you're gonna be careful right?" she asked me. I gaped at her, astonished. That was close as I had heard Holly get to admitting she had concerns - a worry. It wasn't usual for Holly. Not in the slightest. She even _looked _a little worried, if I looked to see it hard enough. Or maybe I just really wanted to see it in her face.

"Worried about your big brother, squirt?" I grinned at her.

She seemed to jolt and recover pretty quickly. She jerked her head a little, her features twitching. "Well, I don't wanna have to put the pieces back together if you go out and get yourself jumped," she said, making it her business to sound haughty. "Again," she added. "I can't serve as your sense of self-preservation when you're out there rumbling with the other guys 'cause you think it's some warped form of entertainment."

That sounded a lot more like Holly - big words, condescending tone, and an air that made it sound like everything was a huge inconvenience to her and her alone.

"You think I think it's fun?" I asked her.

She shrugged. "You're gonna sit there and tell me you don't?"

"Shoot, kid," I muttered. "Everybody fights. Matter of pride," I added, sticking my chin out. She eyed me for another second.

"Well, just . . . don't get yourself killed, okay?" she said uncertainly, slipping past me to go upstairs. "It's been almost sixteen years, and I've just gotten used to having you around." She threw me a small but warm smile.

"You love having me around," I reminded her.

She glanced back, smirking. "Don't push it, Two-Bit."

I snorted. "Don't sweat it, squirt. Ain't nobody yet able to resist my charm." I reclined in my chair, propping my feet up on my Mama's coffee table - shoving off an almost empty packet of potato chips in the progress - and rubbed at my eyes. My stomach was still sore from a couple of mean punches that the Socs had thrown my way - no matter how much I wouldn't admit it out loud to anybody.

Holly stood on the last step and glared, a small smirk playing about her lips. "Two-Bit, if you were half as charming as you think you are, you'd be twice as charming as you are."

I blinked at her for a few seconds, working out what she'd said in my head. "Wanna get me a beer, squirt?"

She scowled. "I told you not to call me 'squirt'!" she grumbled.

"Soda calls you 'squirt'," I muttered back, glancing up at her from under my eyebrows to gauge her reaction. She strolled towards the kitchen, her face particularly expressionless, as Holly was so used to keeping it.

"Exactly," she muttered.

"So I figured it was okay," I went on, grinning broadly. "Or is that just specially for Soda?"

"Shut your trap before I break your face," she said curtly from the kitchen; in another second she was back in the living room, holding out a nice cool beer for me. She sat down beside me and gazed unseeingly at the TV for a few seconds.

I snapped my fingers in front of her face, and she didn't even react.

So I poked her shoulder, watching her carefully. "What's up, kid?"

"Kid's no better," she replied automatically. I poked at her shoulder again.

"Talk."

Holly sighed, pulling at a strand of her fair hair. "I don't want you to fight tomorrow," she said in a small voice, looking anywhere but at me.

I was too shocked to snigger or laugh at her, like I would have done if she didn't seem so serious. And I was a little disturbed, I'll admit - she wasn't acting normally. She was so hardened, so determined not to let anything or anyone get to her. She was so imperturbable. And she had _never _said anything like that to me before; it seemed so personal for Holly.

And I felt this overwhelming need to lighten the mood. I forced a small laugh. "Who are you and what have you done with my sister?" I joked, punching her playfully.

She frowned at me reproachfully, her wide blue eyes full of hurt. "Shut your pie-hole, Two-Bit, I'm bein' serious!"

"For once," I muttered.

"Quit laughin', I'm tryna talk to you," she scowled.

I sighed. "Okay. Why don't you want me to fight?"

"You're gonna get yourself killed!" Holly blurted out. "One of you - somethin' awful is gonna happen, and I know - " her mouth twitched - "I know I don't act like it a whole lot, but I don't know what I'd do with myself if anything happened to you." She frowned, like she was confusing herself.

I let out a natural, genuine laugh and threw an arm around my sister's bony shoulders. "Okay, listen to me, kiddo," I told her wisely, ignoring her taut, sour face. "Ain't nothin' bad is gonna happen." She just looked at me skeptically. "This is important. You know the way you're my sister?"

With a sigh, she shrugged her shoulders. "I think I've grasped a vague idea of the concept, yes," she said sardonically, staring at me.

"Well look. Ponyboy is Darry and Soda's little brother, and Johnny might as well be our kid brother too," I said, thinking hard. "And you know that if something happened to you, I'd kick the ass of whoever dunnit?" She blinked. "So I gotta help take care of this. They're family, remember?"

She nodded. "Just because somethin' happened doesn't mean I have to go lose my family too," she mumbled. "Ain't like we gotta _dad, _or like Mom's around a lot."

I rolled my eyes - I wasn't getting into that conversation again. Sometimes, Holly could feel awful sorry for herself. "Kid, they're family. And we protect family." It was hard to explain it to her - I knew she was worried about me, which was honestly more than I anticipated, so I appreciated it. "Darry's really cut up about this. We all are. Soda's a mess, you seen him lately?" I said, trying not to snigger as I gave her shoulders a squeeze.

It had been years since I'd seen Holly blushed, 'cause she just didn't get embarrassed. But it still didn't make it any less fun to tease her until the cows came home. She shook her head.

"Yeah, well he's takin' it awful hard," I informed her. "And it needs takin' care of. And I gotta help out with this."

"It's not going to change anything," she said quietly.

"Yeah it will," I said with conviction. "It's gonna keep those Socs off our territory when we beat the tar out of 'em."

"And if you don't?"

"We will," I said coolly, nudging her. "And then things go back to - better than normal," I concluded cheerfully. Holly rolled her eyes, and I grinned broadly at her. "Look, don't worry, kid. We got it all taken care of."

She pulled at a loose thread on the couch, and I stood up, shoving my hands in my pocket. "I'm gonna mosey on over, see how they're holdin' up," I told Holly. "You wanna come? I'm sure Soda could use someone to talk to," I told her, winking.

She scowled. "Tell 'im to go talk to Sandy."

I pulled a face. "That ain't funny."

"Bye, Two-Bit," she replied, turning away from me to face the TV again. I sighed, and left as I shrugged into my jacket.

XXX

It was hard to act serious. I felt like cracking a joke, or at least smiling at somebody; it sort of felt like if I treated the situation as gravely as it merited, that would only confirm it. The last thing that this whole mess needed was validation.

I hadn't a clue where Soda was, and Steve was probably with him, or looking for him, and the house seemed so sinister and quiet, it gave me chills when I walked in. I was about to call out, "Who died?" with a laugh, but I stopped myself just in time. Superman didn't need me to do that.

And whatever people might say about me - I wasn't a hundred percent tactless all of the time.

"Hey, Superman? Ya here?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Darry called from the kitchen. "Just fixin' some food, you want somethin' to eat?"

"Nah, that's okay," I said, propping myself up on the kitchen counter. "Holly's going through one of her cooking phases," I said with a bemused grin.

"Yeah, well, if she's got too much 'cooking phase' for you to eat, tell her to send some over here," said Darry, with a small chuckle.

"You okay?" I grimaced, noticing the dark circles under Darry's eyes, which were bloodshot and small.

Darry sighed. "No," he said shortly. "I miss my brother."

I raked my hand through my hair, and jumped off the counter to check the refrigerator for some beer. "Hell, Dar," I said, trying to find a bright side in this complete landscape of black. "Pony's a smart kid. I'm sure -"

"What, nothin's happened to him?" Darry said, frowning. He shoved a chicken in the oven, and leaning against the counter, he covered his face in his hands and seemed to deflate before my eyes, like I was watching Superman fall out of the sky. "He's a fourteen year old kid."

I blinked. I didn't want to tell him not to worry - it wouldn't do any good. That was like trying to tell a leopard to stop having spots. "Darry, everything's gonna work out okay," I said instead, which I realized might as well have been the same thing. But I was trying to convince myself as much as him, and I needed to hear it. Glory, if anything happened to either of the kids - our gang would never be the same.

Darry sighed again. "There's just a few things I wish I'd said to Ponyboy, ya know?"

I nodded, chucking him a beer. "He knows."

"That's the thing," said Darry, taking a swig and sighing again. "I don't think he does. Soda was always tellin' me to go easy on the kid . . ."

"Hey, he's got Soda for that," I said, a little defensively. "The kid needs someone to take care of him too. Tell him to do his homework." At least I could say that with confidence - since I was the one who always had to father Holly, whenever she'd let me gain half an inch towards trying to set her straight. She didn't let me act like a dad too much, so I didn't try a hell of a lot anymore. But that didn't take away that feeling of responsibility or whatever you wanted to call it.

"Yeah but . . . " Darry shook his head. "It's almost like Soda was waitin' for something like this. There's just a hell of a lot of things I woulda done differently."

"Glory, Darry," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "What you worryin' about what's already happened for? Just . . . Just make sure you say it to Ponyboy when he gets back," I said. "Whatever it is you need to tell him. Worry about that, if you're gonna worry."

Darry snorted. "I don't know if you know the meaning of the word 'worry'."

I managed a weak chuckle, but if you wanted to know the truth, worry was actually the thing gnawing at my stomach, no matter how much I pretended it wasn't. I thought of Johnny and Ponyboy, and of the most awful situations and eventualities.

Oh, I knew the meaning of the word 'worry'. I glanced up at Darry, just about able to stretch my mouth into a thin, forced smile. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

* * *

Updates are promised . . . That's it, they're just promised. Thanks for reading.


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